


Nervous

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, first-time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-29
Updated: 2013-04-29
Packaged: 2017-12-09 21:51:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/778372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft Holmes was hardly ever nervous.<br/> <br/>He had ducked from assassins’ fire while his PA defended him, picked up a gun himself and retaliated fire in war-torn countries, and talked his way out of several hostage situations, all while keeping a cool head.</p><p>But bring up the subject of sex, especially if it involved emotional intimacy, and he utterly and completely panicked.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nervous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Anglofile](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anglofile/gifts).



> Written for [Anglofile](anglofile.tumblr.com) for the April Showers Mystrade exchange.  
> 

Mycroft Holmes was hardly ever nervous.

He had ducked from assassins’ fire while his PA defended him, picked up a gun himself and retaliated fire in war-torn countries, and talked his way out of several hostage situations, all while keeping a cool head. 

But bring up the subject of sex, especially if it involved emotional intimacy, and he utterly and completely panicked. 

He’d had one-night stands, of course; partners he kept merely a call away for when he couldn’t soothe his own sexual urges. He had never been short of partners; for some reason which he did not understand, women and men alike found him extremely charming and attractive. Though he preferred men, he had gone through with a tryst or two with one of his female admirers, but it had ended badly. 

Usually, he was able to satisfy himself, without the help of a partner. It wasn’t often that he needed to, but when it was necessary for him to have a partner, he would select one of his (many) admirers, wine and dine them, and take them back to his own flat for sex. It was a good system, he thought; that is, before Gregory Lestrade came into the picture. 

The pair had been dating upwards of two months and had yet to have sex. It wasn’t as if Mycroft was bothered by sex itself, but exposing his entire body to someone that could possibly hurt him emotionally (he despised himself for allowing the detective inspector to get so close to him so fast) utterly and completely terrified him. Greg had been understanding, as he always was (one had to be, when one was working with Sherlock Holmes), but the government official knew his partner’s patience would soon wear thin, and he would begin inquiring why the two hadn’t had sex yet. It was a question the ginger would rather avoid, but unfortunately, we cannot always get what we want. 

It took another two weeks for Greg to ask Mycroft the question he so dreaded, and Mycroft prided himself on the fact that he hadn’t panicked. Well, not outwardly, anyway. 

It started simply enough, with an inquiry that, to anyone else, would have been perfectly innocent. 

“Mycroft?” 

To anyone else, it would have been nothing. To a Holmes, specifically Mycroft Holmes, however, the intent of the message’s delivery was obvious, even if the initiator of the conversation hadn’t intended it to be. Mycroft swallowed, and forced himself to remain calm. 

“Yes, Gregory?” 

“Er...can we talk?” 

“We are talking.” 

“You know what I mean, Holmes.” Greg raised an amused eyebrow. Mycroft sighed, and set down his book, removing his glasses slowly. “What is it, Gregory?” 

“So...” the DI cleared his throat and sat down next to Mycroft, reaching his hand behind his neck to rub at the back of his head; a much used gesture, Mycroft had noted early on in their relationship. “I was wondering if I could stay over tonight.” 

Mycroft let out a slow breath, priding himself on the fact he didn’t visibly show his current state. “I suppose...” 

“No, I mean...For fuck’s sake, c’mere,” the DI murmured, wrapping an arm around Mycroft and pulling him flush to his chest, tangling his fingers in the government official’s hair. The ginger relaxed into the embrace, pressing his nose into Greg’s neck and breathing in his scent; oh, how he loved the way Greg smelled. Like an autumn morning; cool, crisp, clean. There was a reason Mycroft had turned into a cuddler since dating Greg, though he’d never admit it to anyone. 

“So,” the DI murmured into the mop of ginger hair his nose was currently buried in. “We should...do something, yeah?” 

“What?” 

“Myc,” Greg rolled his eyes, “You’re not dense, c’mon.” 

Mycroft was silent for a moment, then spoke. “I know what you’re speaking of, I was merely avoiding the subject to spare both of us severe embarrassment.” 

“Embarrassment? What are you on about?” 

“Embarrassment, Gregory,” Mycroft said slightly bitterly. 

“Wait...you’re embarrassed about sex? _You_?!” 

“Oh shut up,” Mycroft snapped back, “I am not embarrassed by sex, I am embarrassed by vulnerability.” 

“Vulner- oh.” 

“Yes.” The ginger nearly pulled away from Greg’s grip, but something made him pause; perhaps it was the incredulity in Greg’s voice, or maybe it was something deeper. Either way, he remained in Greg’s arms, allowing himself to be held. And, he noted, have his hair stroked, which was quite nice. 

“Myc, you don’t need to feel vulnerable around me.” 

“Easier said than done, my dear.” Mycroft replied, sighing softly. 

“I know, I know,” Greg drew in a breath and let it out slowly. “Look...We don’t have to now, if you don’t want to. Of course I want to wait ‘till you’re comfortable. But...Just so you know, I won’t hurt you. In any way. Not consciously.” 

Mycroft lifted his head and smiled. “You know, sometimes I don’t wonder if you are better at reading people than I.” he chuckled, relaxing into the DI’s embrace. “And...I realise I shouldn’t be so worried about being vulnerable-” 

“Hey, it’s natural,” the older man replied, kissing Mycroft’s cheek. “You’ve some...trust issues, I remember you telling me. That’s alright. If or when you’re comfortable, that’ll be fine. Besides, sex isn’t necessary. I like spending time with you, sex or no sex. Suppose it gives me more time to appreciate you.” 

Mycroft blushed at that, and tilted his head downward, suppressing a wide smile. “Well..thank you. I rather enjoy spending time with you, too. Especially like this.” He curled up closer to Greg for emphasis. “It’s...nice. Comfortable.” 

Greg smiled and stroked Mycroft’s hair again, holding the ginger a bit closer. “See? You don’t need to feel vulnerable around me, love. Actually, I think you’re stuck with me at this point.” 

“Is that so?” 

“Mm. In case you hadn’t noticed (and you’re a Holmes, I know you did), I’m rather smitten with you.” 

The pinkness in Mycroft’s cheeks deepened, and he bit his lip, smiling. “Your flattery is appreciated.” 

“Oi, it’s not flattery! It’s true,” the older man said indignantly, “I really am smitten with you, you know. For a genius, you’re quite dense at times.” 

“Very good way to support your earlier statement, dear.” 

“Oh, come on,” Greg rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Even you have to admit that you can be dense.” 

“I am never dense,” Mycroft smirked, “I am perpetually intelligent, eloquent, and sail through life with ease.” 

“By stepping on other people,” the older man chided gently, nudging Mycroft’s face with his nose. “Anyway, I think the only way you’d be able to get rid of me at this point is if you banished me to Siberia.” 

Mycroft was quiet for a second, then glanced up at Greg. “Really?” 

“Really.” the DI assured him, “I’ve actually never felt this way about anybody else. With you, it’s...natural. I don’t feel like I have to try and be perfect. Because, well, you can see through everything. It’s pointless to pretend to be somebody I’m not, because you can see through bullshit. Make sense?” 

“I wouldn’t say I can ‘see through bullshit’ per se, but I do get the gist of what you’re saying.” Mycroft replied, “And...thank you. Really. I have to say, I feel the same way.” 

“Yeah?” Greg smiled, leaning over to lightly peck Mycroft on the lips. “That’s great, love.” 

“Since I do,” Mycroft trailed off, glancing up at the DI and reaching up to touch his cheek. “Maybe we could...” he nodded towards his master bedroom. 

The silver-haired man’s eyes widened. “Wait, really? You said-” 

“I’m allowed to change my mind,” Mycroft chuckled, “I assume you are not opposed to this.” 

“Not at all,” Greg replied, giving Mycroft a deep, lingering kiss. 

“Hm,” Mycroft hummed as Greg pulled away, “Good.”


End file.
